Imperfect Solution
by VerelLupin
Summary: Skye had been taken from him and brought back but she's changed. Turned into something Coulson wasn't sure of but had to take care of even if it changed him too. He loved her too much not to try. Skye knows what she's doing can't be right but who is she to argue with Coulson? Why would she? But can they get past the insanity of the moment and build something real? Coulskye
1. Imperfect Solution

**I saw T.R.A.C.K.S. and this popped into my head. I am as baffled as you are.  
**

**Enjoy...I guess?**

* * *

It was hard and unexpected the first time.

Clothes shoved open, shallow breathing and bodies quickly joining together and hands gripping with equal parts pain and pleasure. Lips between teeth and eyes squeezed shut and silent vows that this would not happen again. It couldn't happen again.

But even as the sweat cooled and the garments are rearranged he knows she'll return and they'll be in the same positions with the same broken promises being spoken as they chase the same highs. Because they've seen a way to cope with the losses, the only way.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, it wasn't supposed be a near rape of the man she loved. It should have been an expression of desire and adoration from the woman he loved.

It was meant to be slow and tender and all the soft mushy things that meant love.

He was supposed to whisper sweet nothings, not tell her that it was okay and that it wasn't her fault.

She'd come back from the dead but she'd come back damaged. She'd come back broken and there had been so many pieces missing that it all but guaranteed that he'd be unable to put her back together.

She made advances on Leo and Ward but both had resisted, both had fought her and told her that sex would not sustain her.

Coulson had given what he'd thought she'd needed, what he'd arrogantly assumed only he could give.

He'd given her his mutually scarred body hoping that would quench the terrible ache that developed after each and every mission.

It had been a series of simple kisses that exploded into a violent frenzy of pulling and yanking off his jacket and tie. Sets of caresses that her raising her skirts or dragging down her pants and pulling him onto her uncaring of the scattering of papers on his desk.

He'd fallen prey to her enchanting darkness and he was unable to escape it now.

She was being consumed by it and knowing that his light was disappearing into her made her reckless and bold. Made her want every little bit of his soul regardless of what it did to him and he'd been too happy to oblige.

May had tried to stop it, had tried to make Skye see reason but it had been Coulson who told her to back off. He was too caught up in it, in them to get out.

He was helpless to stop her needs, unwilling to let her suffer alone.

He endures the scratches and bites and scathing words she flings at him in her rage. The kisses filled with salty tears and the apologies for his ruined clothes and the hurt feelings that come after.

He softens her animalistic cravings as much as he can but she begs for more the nicer he becomes.

He's too deeply invested in her and she eating him up from the inside but he doesn't care.

She strips him to the bone, breaks through the sardonic smiles. She clutches the heart that beats an unsteady rhythm every time she gets that gleam in her eyes that ends with her draped on his lap and full of him until she leaves on unsteady legs.

He had nothing but this job before and he'd been content. That was not the case now. He needs her more than breathing, needs her to get past this, needs her with him not against him.

He's trying to save her without destroying himself and in those brief moments when her face shines with peace and their voices blend, Phillip Coulson feels like her hero, her avenger.

He's dying and coming back from the dead every time she reaches for him but he'll keep doing it. He'll take the abuse; let her dictate when and where and how as long as she holds onto him.

He will sacrifice it all if it means he can regain the old Skye, the one that gave him hope when his was lost. The one he never confessed to but always loved.

It was an imperfect solution but it was the only one he had.


	2. Imperfect Is Not Okay

**Skye's side of it, I guess. **

**Because I can? I don't know why...**

* * *

She didn't look at him as she zipped up her jeans. They never talk until both are fully covered. It's an unspoken rule they created early on.

"I'm dressed," he said and she turned to face him but her eyes wouldn't lift farther than his immaculately polished black shoes. Once in a while she feels shame, once in a while she remembers who they used to be.

Apparently so does he, "it can stop. Anytime you need it to."

"I don't, not yet, unless you..." she leaves it open. Leaves him before he answers, leaves him studying his keepsakes like she does every time he brings it up, and ever since this has become their routine.

It used to be animal urges that drove her, now its because she enjoys being connected to the one person that makes her feel human.

She had felt alien, she was alien and it wasn't just the serum that had been injected into her. She knew that she was different. Sure she'd tried Fitz and Ward first but they treated her differently. Coulson didn't and that was why she'd taken the ultimate decision away from him. He would have stopped her if she had asked him to piece her back together.

He would have found another way, she couldn't deal with another way.

That's when she first realized that something had gone missing when she came back from the other side, never would have done what she did otherwise. And yet he'd been the only one who promised to get it back for her and she knew he'd do everything in his power to keep his promise.

At first it was just to feel something other than the emptiness, loneliness and isolation but everything has changed now. Now it's a habit, a bad one but it's a constant in her shifting world. His warm embrace and the soft hands that run down her spine after she's ambushed him in the dead of night are the only supports that can keep her upright.

He is cracking; she feels it and traces the tiny fissures that line his eyes. Feels it and tastes the bitter pull of his lips that becomes more obvious every time they lift to say her name. He feels shakier under her hands and it's her doing and she's incapable of ending it.

She wants him, craves him too much too fight her own disgust for mixing her dark shades with his light, turning their world ever darker. It should have been different, had dreamed it softer and slow and not so violent.

She still doesn't really understand what happened that first time. Jemma had given the okay and released her and then she'd gotten dressed. She still didn't know why she'd chosen the red dress, the one he'd picked her up in.

She just remembers going straight to his office. She was already undoing the dress, like it wasn't even her anymore and in a way it wasn't, this was pure instinct. When he looked up, the ties of it are slipping to the sides and loosing around her body with every step she takes.

He watched from his desk, frozen by her actions, his mouth pressed into such a thin line she has a hard time making it out. "Skye," he had said warningly.

But she wasn't looking for approval; she didn't know what she was looking for. She just knew that being near him is what she needed. Then she's in his lap and he's trying to close her dress, trying to still the hands that are pulling on his belt.

He grabs her hips desperate to halt her jerky movements but she's more determined than he expected. She's more fragile, she kisses him and his lips taste salty and she's not even aware she's crying until he lets go of her waist to console her and she uses her freedom to undo his resolve.

She whimpers against his chest and he relents and now they're joined and fractured at the same time. She sinks onto him, holding onto his shoulders with a punishing grip that will leave marks but he doesn't stop it or join in her frantic movements.

He lets her do what she needs to do and when she's spent, she says nothing. She rises from his lap and ties her dress back on and she walks out of his office not daring to see what kind of expression he's wearing.

And that is how her corruption of him begins.

After the first time she stops caring about his desire or willingness to be taken and she does take him. She uses him to achieve the release she needs to sleep without shattering glassware with her screams or catching things on fire when the nightmares become too real. She ignores the slight blankness that turns his blue eyes icy whenever she demands more of his attention.

The serum burns through her and her powers are manifesting.

He alone knows how much stronger she is, how much more effort it takes to peel her off him when he can't bear to have her touch him. Yet she goes back for more even though he's scared of her and for her and she scared of herself and of hurting him. He tries to calm her like the dangerous animal she's becoming.

He acts like he's not built to be a hero and she isn't the villain. She forces him to be more than a supporting character with a few lines, yells at him to break free of her for his own good but he's always been a martyr to the cause, and she fits the bill. So she lets him be what keeps her sane and struggling to reach for the self that is at the edges of her mind. His voice the one that screams inside her head that she is destroying them.

He wishes for his old Skye and she demands he be the old Phillip, she's heard so much about.

That Phillip would surely and swiftly stop her but then Skye panics and ensnares him again with the wounded girl shimmering beneath the surface. Phil wants to save her, who is she to stop him?

The guilt returns and she tries to taper off, tries to keep from crawling into his bed but by then it doesn't matter. Now he comes to her. Now he's addicted and she doesn't pretend that she isn't happy to be his drug of choice.

She is devouring what's left of his integrity and when Ward begs her to stop it she shrugs her shoulders. It's not just her choice anymore. Coulson is okay with this imperfect solution but it won't hold for long. This fusing of their bodies is crumbling any chance to go back to the real Skye and the real Coulson she fell in love with, the one she allowed in.

What they are doing, what she's doing to him, could never by the farthest stretch of imagination, ever be called okay. They are in a terrible state but she's so afraid she'll lose him altogether that she keeps going, keeps telling him that it is all she can offer him. Its messy but its theirs for now.

Imperfect is not okay but neither are they.


	3. The Perfect Resolution

**Finished another one yay...only like a thousand to go. **

**This one sort of turned into a prequel for Forever More. **

**Enjoy...so excited.  
**

* * *

It's been a week since they've separated, a day since they last were in the same room for more than a briefing. It took only one moment to say stop and not speak of it again.

The madness has run its course and now they're both stranded. Where do you go when all that's left is awkward glances at each other? What can you do when most of your time together was spent in nude darkness? When conversations are all about the next time?

She can't do this to him, she wants to give him an explanation but he won't let her.

He can't make her justify herself, he wasn't innocent and she didn't take advantage of him. You can't rape the willing and he was ever so willing. He won't do this to her. He won't ask her if she ever felt anything even though she did ask why he allowed it.

He would have given an answer but she cut him off with a thank you and a hug that should have been warmer than it was. He let her go and made it his fault, because he'd already sacrificed his standing and reputation in front of their team. He'd given her all he could, his dignity would do him any favors if she was maligned and he could have stopped it. He's a big boy, he'll bounce back.

Skye felt the weight of the stares he received on her behalf crush her more than the pitying glances. She wanted to yell at them, wanted to say, "he was a goddamm hero." But she doesn't because he asked her to respect his wishes about what happened between them. He'd rather let people think what they wanted of him, even if it was horrible, disgraceful things that they thought, than expose what she'd become.

He was still protecting her. **'Who would protect him?'**

A month later and she's as stable as when he first met her, which wasn't that great but still better than the past few months. He congratulates them on still being able to maintain their friendship and she smiles and hugs him, reassuring that nothing could break them up.

But both are professional liars and people readers but it's not for their sake that this is being done. This is for the team and for the work that S.H.I.E.L.D has to do, because now that they are over the missions are all they have.

"I need some more training."

"May is always available if you think Ward can't hack it." He says without a trace of anything. He's back to being the boss and she has no choice but to accept it. Its the role she handed him.

"Someone else."

"I can take some time-"

"Not on this team." She interrupts.

"Not here, you mean." He clarifies.

"Yes."

This is the time apart she had asked for back before their implosion…right before.

"I'll see what I can do." He says dismissively. She leaves and he does do everything he can. He calls and wheedles and prods and pushes the higher ups. Well he calls Natasha and she tells Clint and the two arrange everything. Fury is none the wiser because Team Clintasha figures he's suffering enough.

His quiet voice and nonchalant face do nothing to hide it from the duo. They worked too long with him and he knows it but spare him. The two outline where she'll be if she's needed, this is directed at him. They tell her what will be expected of her in case she wants a way out, this they direct at her.

"I could use a challenge," she says.

"We can manage a few months," he replies.

She'll be taught at the academy for six months and he swears he'll drop by with the team, not him. No need to go back down that road. It's all lip service; nothing will bring them back together before the time is up. She knows they've got too much to think about and process through.

She stops in his office one last time and when he gets back to it, after she's gone and he's had three tumblers too much of Bourbon, he sees her hula doll sitting on his desk.

He misses her already and sets the doll dancing. The year will be rough but at least he can get back to May, after her fallout with Ward, she needs a friend too and he's just the right person to take out her frustrations on.

Skye gets her own room, a luxury, unpacks her bag and finds her very own icer gun. It rests beneath her pillow and when the nightmares get really bad, she reaches for it.

Skye's academy training is fun and boring at the same time, its time consuming and too fast for her to learn everything. The headaches are great since they give her an excuse to use ridiculous amounts of aspirin to dull the pain and forget that she sleeps alone now.

After the academy, he pulls the few strings he has left and puts her in Stark Tower.

"You need to be able to work with other teams, in the event that you are needed and we can't assist."

"You think I need that?" she cradles the phone.

"Everybody needs that." He replies gripping his cell phone tightly.

"You're the boss."

"Cap will pick you up. Tell Ward when he gets there." And he hangs up on her without a goodbye or an I love you or I miss you so terribly it feels like a black hole is swallowing me up.

The tower will be good and she could use someone to distract her, Tony is good at distraction, excels at it. Captain will keep her grounded and offer a shoulder if need be. Natasha and Clint already guessed most of the story, they'll subtlety help her move on from his ridiculous infatuation.

She sits on her bed, the icer in hand; she doesn't even hear Ward come in or see him until he's in front of her holding her bag over his shoulder. "It's time to come back."

"I'm not going back…not yet."

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere else," Steve Rogers says from behind them. Ward drops the bag and Steve picks it back up. "Are you ready to go, Ms?"

"Yes."

Stark Tower is awe inspiring the first week. After the second week of wondering where the hell the man the building is named after is, she realizes how much she misses the team. Not the leader, she's not missing him, she only misses orders, doesn't miss Lola or his hands smoothing her hair.

Steve Rogers is weirdly intuitive, he says that the Agent is a good man, misguidedly earnest but a good man that's very obtuse. She nods along and doesn't speak about anything remotely considering feelings or her team or about Coulson after that.

He focuses her scattered thoughts to the purpose of their missions and how to better the world without sacrificing what you believe in, he makes her miss him, the leader not the team.

"Have you met Tony yet?" Coulson asks calling to check up on her.

"He's never here when I'm awake but Happy is very nice."

"Natasha says you've gotten really good in close combat."

"Steve's been teaching me some moves. I'll have to try them out on Ward."

"I'm sure the team will be more than happy to see you in a few months."

"It'll be sad to leave."

"Sounds like you have a new team." He says softly.

"I do, I'll see you in a few months." She hangs up without a goodbye or an I love you or I miss you so much, that not even seeing an apologetic Captain America or strutting Hawkeye come out of the shower clad only in a towel gets a reaction.

Clint enters their circle soon after and she learns things about everybody she didn't want or need to know. He cracks jokes about Fury's preoccupation with always having an emergency eye patch and that the real Iron Man is actually Pepper since Tony can't even use the toaster.

He mentions that Coulson would wear jeans on a date if the woman he was interested in was special. He liked the outdoors, not that you'd know it from looking at him and he had a weakness for brunettes.

Skye didn't know any of that but their time hadn't included dates, shared interests, likes or dislikes or anything else remotely healthy. That had been her insistence not his, she told him once that anything personal would make it normal and their situation was not normal.

Natasha gave her the outlet to find herself and finish what she'd stupidly started by leaving the Bus. She learned to confront what had happened to them. Learned it was not the end of her or him of them, unless she wanted to be. They could still be something.

She didn't want to just hope anymore, she needed to salvage them, had to make Coulson see that they could and would rise from this. They had been weak but they could also be strong, if they worked on it. If they allowed the hurt to be replaced by the respect and love they'd been hiding beneath the sex born of desperation at losing themselves to the darkness within.

When the year was officially up and it was time to pick a new assignment, she picked the Bus.

It was handled and she arrived with the same promptness she'd left with. One hour had passed and she'd already been briefed on their current assignments and given her old bunk back. They're retired for the night without more than two words to each other. They've already returned each other's stuff. The doll is back on her table and the gun is on his desk.

This relationship is now dead and buried.

They start over, catch some bad guys, talk occasionally with others present and say good morning like the civil people they all are but they never mention the months they were magnetized. Never mention the words they used to hurt each other the day before they separated for twelve months.

He's sitting in Lola and about to drive away, he's wearing jeans and a new black polo shirt, she would have remembered that shirt. She almost turns back, almost lets him leave, lets him pretend that she's okay with forgetting what it feels like to be held by him, to hold him.

She remembers her training; gets close like Steve said, carefully positions herself like Clint ordered and focuses on her opponent like Natasha always did.

"I couldn't and didn't want to control it." She's at the passenger side, "I'm not sorry it happened." She glances at the handle, asking to be let in, "I'm sorry it happened like it did." She looks him in the eye, "I'm should have talked to you as soon as I got back."

She's still by the door when he answers, "I wanted to save you. I should have let you save yourself." He steps out and around to her side. "I should have been brave and told you why I was doing it." He leans around her and opens the door for her, offering to let her in. "I'm sorry it happened because you deserve better but I'm not sorry it was me it happened with."

"Still friends?" she asks.

"That depends on you, can friends go out to dinner?"

"You're wearing jeans." She replies getting in.

He closes her door and gets in. "You've been talking to Clint."

"He talked to me." She says and buckles him in. "Is it true?"

"I can change into something else," he responds and returns the favor.

"I don't want you to change."

"What do you want?"

"I want to be us again, I want to talk about the bad stuff and fix it. I want you and you to want me back." She replies honestly.

"We were never the problem, the bad stuff is part of being human. You've always had me and I only want you, its what caused this trouble in the first place."

"Then I want better results."

"Did they all talk to you?" he asks starting the car and backing down the ramp.

"Let's go out to dinner then I'll tell you everything we talked about."

"Somehow I'm not worried."

"Promise we won't make the same mistake, that we'll talk before we walk away?" She covers his hand with hers, lightly, tentatively.

He turns his hand over and grips hers, tightly. "That sounds like the perfect resolution."


End file.
